Scars
by BeautifullyTragicElphaba
Summary: Elphie's done things she's not proud of, and she has the scars to show for it. Fiyero is concerned and doesn't want her to hurt anymore. Sweet and angsty fluff. Also read TragicallyBeautifulNessarose's story Unlucky, inspired by a part of this.


**A/N: I know Elphie and Yero may seem a bit OOC in this, but I wanted to show a different side of them. I wanted to show a bit more of Elphie's more vulnerable and weak side, because we all know that under her green and still confident exterior she's human. I also wanted to show a bit more of Yero's loving and caring side. We all know he's in love with Elphie, but he doesn't show it enough, at least in my opinion.**

**Disclaimer: I own Wicked! That's exactly why I'm writing fanfiction for it. (Translation for those of you who don't know sarcasm: I own nothing, no matter how much I wish I did.)**

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I smiled at Fiyero as he wrapped his arms around me lovingly, holding me close to him. We were sitting on the window seat in my dorm room after returning from another dance at the Ozdust. Galinda was off somewhere with Avaric, and knowing her I wasn't really expecting her to be back any time soon.

I was sitting in Fiyero's lap, and my head was resting on his shoulder. We'd been dating for a few weeks, and I really couldn't have been happier. He made me feel human for once, I wasn't used to it. It was nice. "I love you, Yero," I whispered happily. I reached up to rest my hand on his shoulder, and I felt my heart drop as my sleeve fell slightly, revealing a series of scars beginning on my wrist.

I hurriedly tried to pull my sleeve back up before he could see the scars, but it was too late, he had already seen them. He gently grabbed my wrist and pushed my sleeve up to see how far the scars went. The pain was evident in his eyes when he saw the scars crisscrossing all the way up to my elbow. When I moved my other arm closer to myself instinctively, he pushed the sleeve up on that one too, revealing the same amount of scars there.

"Fae… why? Did you do this to yourself? What happened? And don't try to pass it off as nothing, either, just tell me what happened."

I sighed and decided it would probably be best to just tell him the truth. "Yes, Yero, I did this to myself. Most of them are from when I was almost sixteen… I did something I just couldn't forgive myself for."

I nearly stopped talking right then, hoping that that would be enough of an explanation for him, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to know what happened, so I reluctantly continued. "It was Nessa's thirteenth birthday, and Father was leaving for a week, going on one of his trips. She made the comment as he was leaving, 'well, so much for a happy birthday,' and I got a little bit mad. I meant to just lightly hit her in the back of the head, nowhere near hard enough to hurt her, and say that she had no room to complain, since I'd never had a single happy birthday in my entire life. But when I went to hit her, I don't even know what happened… my magic just flared up, and the next thing I knew, she was on the ground, and she had a gash on the side of her face, and I swear her arm was broken and her legs looked messed up worse than usual. And worst of all, she was crying, and she looked absolutely terrified."

I was fighting back tears, but I could tell he wanted me to finish the story, so I continued. "I couldn't even control what I did, I had no power over it. I don't know what happened, I felt like hugging her and crying and begging her to forgive me, but instead… I felt myself smirking, there was an evil glint in my eye, and I muttered, 'Happy birthday, sister-mine,' and walked out of the room."

The tears spilled over and I buried my face in Fiyero's chest, my shoulders shaking with the sobs. "As soon as I left the room, I regained my control, but by the time I went back to apologize to her she had left, and I realized she didn't want me to find her, she didn't want to see me. I felt horrible for what I did, I just wanted to die, but I knew I couldn't kill myself, because I didn't want to do that and then end up having her miss me, even after what I did. I knew she was nice enough that she probably would. I just had to do something, I couldn't live with myself after what I did. Most of these cuts are from that night, I just kept making the cuts, all the way from my wrists to my elbows. I couldn't stop. I hurt my Nessa, my sweet Nessa that had never even thought of hurting anyone… I'm a horrible person, I should've just killed myself."

Fiyero held me tightly to his chest, trying to comfort me. "Shhh, Fae, it's ok. It sounds to me like it wasn't your fault. If you felt sorry, and if you didn't have control over what you did, then it wasn't your fault. One mistake doesn't make you a horrible person."

I looked him in the eyes, and I think the pain he saw in my eyes shocked him. "Fiyero, some of these scars are newer. I've hurt her since then. Never as much as I did then, but I have. I've yelled at her, I've hit her… I don't know why I have, I never want to, and I always feel horrible, which is why I cut every time I do. I just… I don't know what happens when I'm around her, it's so easy for the magic to take over and make me do things I don't want to do. I never wanted to hurt Nessa, never… Yero, I don't deserve you, I don't deserve anything good, I'm always so horrible to my sister, and she's never done a thing to hurt me, and she has every right to."

Fiyero gently placed a hand on the side of my face, and he placed a tender kiss to my forehead before kissing my lips softly. "Elphaba, you're not horrible. You're insecure and you don't know how to fully control these powers of yours, it's not your fault. I still love you Fae, more than anything else in the world, and I always will, no matter what you do."

He took hold of my left wrist and brought it to his lips, and he placed soft, feather-light kisses on each scar on my arm, taking care not to miss a single one. He lingered and placed multiple kisses on the newer scars and the worst ones. I felt my heart flutter erratically at his loving gesture, and I leaned against him as he took my right arm and repeated the process.

He held me close to him after he had finished kissing all the scars, and I practically melted against his chest. I couldn't believe that he still loved me, even knowing what I did. He never ceased to amaze me.

"Fae, I love you," he whispered, his voice right in my ear. I smiled lightly, not doubting the truth of his words. "There is something I want to ask you, though," he added, pushing me away slightly so that he could look at my face, but still keeping his arms around me. I looked at him quizzically and he continued. "How have you managed to hide the scars for this long? I've seen you wearing short sleeves before, and I didn't see a thing. How did you hide them?"

I chuckled. "Well, I obviously couldn't hide them from my roommate, and even before she was friends with me, they bugged her so much that she offered to help me hide them. Her only real talent for sorcery is when it involves makeup. She's actually able to cover them up for me. The effects are only temporary, though, and they wear off after a few hours. I was hoping they wouldn't wear off while I was around you, though, Yero. I never wanted you to know about these scars."

"In a way, I'm glad I do know about them. I never want you to feel like you have to do anything like this ever again. I don't want to see you hurt, especially not when you're hurting because you're hating yourself. My dearest Elphaba, you aren't a bad person, and I want to help you realize that. I love you."

I still didn't understand how much he loved me, or how he could love me at all. I still didn't understand how he could insist I wasn't a bad person, even after he knew what I did to my sister. I just knew that he was going to try to make me understand, and I could only hope it would work. But for now, I was perfectly content to have him hold me, and to know that somehow, though I couldn't understand why, he really did love me.

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**Review, please, and be kind! Please, no flames, though constructive criticism is permissible.**


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